Thirty. “Something of the maiden’s fragrance lingers with a woman until she is twenty-nine, but nothing is left about the body of the woman of thirty years.

I have suffered much at the hands of human society. Forgive me if I seem overly suspicious.

When I acted like a liar, they called me a liar. When I acted like a rich man, they started the rumor I was rich. When I feigned indifference, they classed me as the indifferent type. But when I inadvertently groaned because I was really in pain, they started the rumor that I was faking suffering. The world is out of joint.

Living itself is the source of sin.

He must live up to his friend’s trust – that alone mattered.

God, I ask you. Is trustfulness a sin?

Oh, life is too painful, the reality that confirms the universal belief that it is best not to be born.

Most drinkers are lonely men, isolated in their own homes. To ask whether they drink because they’re isolated or isolated because the rest of the family disapprove of their drinking would be like clapping and trying to decide which hand made the sound – it can only lead to a lot of vain quibbling.

All I feel are the assaults of apprehension and terror at the thought that I am the only one who is entirely unlike the rest.

Long personal experience had taught me that when a woman suddenly bursts into hysterics, the way to restore her sprits is to give her something sweet.